The Alpine Yeoman (21 page)

“Of course not,” I replied. “Helping kids stay in school is the parent or guardian’s responsibility.”

“Certainly. I hope my dismay didn’t show over the air. Spencer assured me I kept my aplomb, but it wasn’t easy.”

“I shouldn’t think so,” I asserted, wondering what the heck Vida was talking about. “Why was Helena so … candid?”

“For obvious reasons. She worries about students. Or former students, that is. Allowing them to drop out without official recognition could be illegal. When I asked if Principal Freeman had reported this to the school board, she hedged. Don’t you agree?”

“It’s hard for me to say.” At least that was true. “You must’ve noticed her body language, right?”

“True. She seemed to stiffen. But given that funding is based on enrollment numbers, I can’t help but think that this is cheating. Granted, only five students have dropped out this year, and that doesn’t include the Johnson and Ellison girls. But it could make a difference when you consider that the high school began the year with slightly over 280 students. In the case of the Ostrom boy, he was eighteen and joined the navy, planning to finish his degree in the service. But those four girls simply left. The younger of the two Pedersen girls is only fifteen.”

The names of Ostrom and Pedersen rang only faint bells. They probably lived on the fringes, perhaps out on River Road, up Highway 187 by the old mineshafts or by Alpine Falls, west of the hatchery. While Vida rattled on, I quietly cleaned up the kitchen. But she paused, apparently expecting me to say something. Returning to the living room, I gave it my best shot. “Does Helena hold both the parents and Freeman responsible for these unofficial dropouts?”

“Surely you could tell from her tone,” Vida insisted.

“I thought maybe she added details after the broadcast.”

“She merely stated she hoped she’d given listeners something to think about. I must go. Calls are coming through on
my other line. Goodness, I’d so hoped to stop off to wish Roger well on his job tomorrow. You’ll put something on the website, of course.”

“About Roger?” I said, causing Milo to look up from his reading.

“No, no. About my program, of course.” She paused briefly. “It would, of course, be nice if you mentioned Roger.”

“That’s a ‘Scene’ item. As for Ms. Craig, I’ll think how to approach posting anything. We can’t be careless if there are legal implications.”

“True,” Vida allowed. “You’re not angry with me for having such a bombshell on my program, are you? I had no idea!”

“I wish we’d had the story first,” I hedged. “Good luck with the callers.”

I rang off. Milo again looked at me. “Is Vida’s shocker that Roger got a job? That
is
damned surprising. Or is he working for Fleetwood?”

“No, it’s what Helena … skip it. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“That’s not unusual.” He glanced at his magazine. “The Spurs look solid for the NBA play-offs. So do the Pistons and the Heat.”

“Stop distracting me. I’m going to the kitchen to call Fleetwood.”

Figuring Spence had probably taken off after Vida’s show, I dialed his cell instead of the station. He answered on the fourth ring, sounding less than his usual mellifluous self. “Damn,” he said, “I’m going a-wooing. Rosalie awaits at Parc Pines.”

“Tell the merry widow to sit tight and give me three minutes. What’s your reaction to Helena’s indiscreet revelations?”

“She’s lucky she isn’t fired,” he replied. “On the other hand, if the school board has any gumption—which they probably
don’t—Freeman’s job may be on the line. But my money’s on him. Ms. Craig went public, so do with it what you will.”

“Can you get me a copy of the tape?”

“Sure, if you … why do you need a copy?”

“Because I want to make damned sure I get it right.”

“Can you wait until tomorrow?”

I told Spence I could. “I’ll wait to post anything online.”

He laughed. “You didn’t listen to ‘Vida’s Cupboard’? Were you letting your favorite bear maul you instead?”

“Stop. If you breathe a word to Vida, I’ll make her put you two in ‘Scene.’ At least Milo and I are married.”

“You’re a bothersome wench. Have it your way. My lips are sealed.”

“Not for long after you get to Parc Pines. Good night, Spence.”

“That was quick,” my husband remarked when I came back into the living room. “You got everything sorted out?”

“No. I’ll have to listen to the blasted tape.”

Milo put the magazine aside. “Did Fleetwood ever come on to you?”

I shook my head. “His romantic history is as weird as mine—and yours. I don’t care much for Rosalie, though you and I’ve seen her softer side. They’re both superficial on the outside, but not on the inside.”

Milo frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re right. But you know what I mean.”

“I don’t think
you
know what you mean.”

“You could be right.”

Of course, we were both wrong—about so many things that would happen in the days to come.

“M
ORE DROPOUTS
?”
THE SHERIFF BARKED AT ME OVER
the phone shortly after eight-thirty Friday morning. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Just what Helena Craig said on Vida’s show. Maybe you should listen to the tape, too.”

Milo sighed. “Give me those names again.”

“Ostrom, Pedersen, Fritz, and Kramer. The Pedersens had two daughters drop out.”

“I’ll skip the tape for now. I’ve got work to do. We got the body back a few minutes ago.” He hung up.

Spence had discreetly left the tape with Amanda shortly before I’d gotten to work. I’d taken it into the back shop so Vida wouldn’t overhear me listening to it. If Kip suspected I hadn’t heard the original version, he didn’t say so. In fact, he expressed his own concern about what was going on at the high school.

“Chili and I have a long time to wait before we worry about kids going to high school,” he said, “but what’s going on with Freeman? A couple of months ago, it was porn in the lockers, now it’s unreported dropouts? Is he losing his grip?”

“Vida has a family member—a Gustavson—on the school board,” I said. “If she ever gets off the phone, maybe she’ll pin him to the wall.”

Kip laughed. “Oh, she’ll build a fire under him. But some of those other school board members may not have the guts to hold Freeman accountable. Will you handle the story or give it to Mitch?”

“Being from Detroit and not having local roots, Mitch should be the point man. I’ll talk to him when he gets back from his rounds.”

Kip stroked the red goatee that didn’t quite conceal his still-boyish looks. “Karl Freeman was only in his second year when I started high school. He isn’t all that old, really. Fifty or so?”

“I’m fifty or so,” I retorted.

Kip’s fair skin flushed. “I never think of you as that old, Emma. Honest. Maybe that’s because … how old is Dodge?”

“Ninety-six,” I said. “I’m going to dodder off now and try to find the equally decrepit Mitch. He’s even older than Milo and I are.”

“Well now!” Vida exclaimed, rubbing at her tired ear. “Are we having computer problems? You’ve been in the back shop forever.”

“I wanted to listen to your show again,” I said. “I’m going to let Mitch cover it.”

“No! It should be my task, since my program broke the news.”

I rested a knee on her visitor chair. “All the more reason for Mitch to do it. We need an unbiased viewpoint. He’s only been here for seven months. His perspective will be more objective than yours—or mine.”

Vida scowled while adjusting the beribboned mauve pillbox that seemed to be slipping off to one side. “Perhaps. But my ties to the high school go back three generations.”

“I know. That’s why we need an outsider’s point of view.”

The outsider came into the newsroom, running a hand
through his thick gray hair. “Am I supposed to mention that the sheriff is not in a good mood?”

Ignoring Vida’s contemptuous snort, I shrugged. “He’s been in one of those off and on for over fifteen years. I’m used to it. The only difference is that early on he was quieter about it. I don’t suppose the cause of his ill humor is newsworthy?”

Mitch was pouring coffee and picking up a bear claw. “Maybe. Just as I left, he took off in the Yukon.”

“Check back later,” I said. “He may have news on the murder vic. They just got the body back. Meanwhile, take on Principal Freeman. It may be spring break, but I assume he’s in town. If he’s not at the high school, talk to him at his home. The address is in the phone directory.” Unlike Vida, I didn’t have every SkyCo resident’s number in my head.

Mitch looked mildly surprised. “I thought maybe you or …” He stopped, seeing that Vida was pretending to be absorbed in a news release. “Sure. But what about the dropouts’ parents?”

“Freeman’s first up. I don’t know these people.” I winced before turning to Vida. “Do you recognize the names of the latest dropouts?”

Her head snapped up, sending the pillbox dangerously aslant. “Of course I recognize them, though they haven’t lived here all that long. The Ostroms are up on Second Hill. He works for the state parks and was a career navy man, which is why their son is going into the service. Mrs. Ostrom tutors dyslexic children. They have a sixth grader named Grace. I wrote an article about them about a year and a half ago when they arrived, having lived previously in Everett.”

“And the others?” I asked.

“The Pedersens are a bit elusive. They’ve been here only a few months. In fact, I believe Mrs. Pedersen may be a single mother. I contacted her when they came to Alpine, but she
proved … distant. Perhaps the separation was recent and she didn’t want to discuss it. Understandable, of course. I never pry.”

Mitch turned away abruptly, apparently to hide his incredulity. I could hear my phone ringing, so I had to put off asking about the other two names Helena Craig had mentioned.

“Okay,” Janet Driggers said, “as the sheriff’s wife, can you tell me what we should do with the stiff your big stud sent us? They ran out of space at the hospital morgue, which is good news for us, but not so good for the two old coots who croaked last night. Autopsies pending, though they were both older than God. Pidduck and Nerstad obits to Vida. So do we release the dead guy to the woman who claims to be his mother?”

“His mother?” I was stunned. “Where did she come from?”

“How do I know? I didn’t ask, and I don’t need to know until I talk to your mega-dude. He’s not in, and I already heard he wants the stiff back. Dodge has priority over a mere mama.” She paused while I collected my wits. “I wonder,” Janet mused, “if I should meet with the sheriff, say at the Tall Timber Motel or the …”

“Stop!” I shouted. “When did Milo call you?”

“Jealous? Oh, come on, there’s plenty of that big guy to go …”

“Janet.” My voice turned severe. “I repeat, when did Milo call …”

“He didn’t.” Janet sounded only faintly irked. “Heppner called Al last night and asked to claim the body. I assume the sheriff wants it back for some reason.”

“I …” Pausing, I wondered if I’d heard Janet correctly. “
Sam
called Al? Or do you mean one of the other deputies?”

“Hell, Emma, Al can tell that sourpuss Heppner from the rest of Dodge’s crew. Unless it’s Dwight Gould, of course, but I heard he’s been banging his ex-wife. It’s almost unbelievable,
though it does make him semi-human. Heppner doesn’t come close.”

I was flabbergasted but didn’t want to give anything away about Sam’s apparent defection. “Did you tell Mrs.… Fernandez, is it?”

“I guess,” Janet replied. “I don’t need to get her ID until I know it’s okay for her to claim the stiff.”

“Where’s Al?” My brain seemed to be recovering. “Maybe I should talk to him.”

“He went to Snohomish. Cubby Pierce died during the night, and his widow wants him buried in the Alpine family plot. Cubby and Kitty retired to Snohomish, you know.”

I didn’t know. In fact, I didn’t know Cubby and Kitty Pierce, unless they were somehow related to Vida, which was always a good guess. “Honest, Janet, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re talking to the wrong Dodge. Mitch told me Milo’s on a call, so ask him when he gets back. I’m out of my league here.”

“So am I,” Janet admitted. “We’re liberated women. Why can’t we function when our husbands aren’t around? Unless I’ve got my vibrator.”

I ignored the remark. “We’re liberated, but we aren’t wizards. Now you’ve got me confused. Let me know what you find out, okay?” I rang off.

For a few moments I sat back in my chair and wondered if Janet could have been mistaken about which deputy had called Al about Fernandez. But while Janet might have a bawdy mouth, she had an agile brain. If she hadn’t, she couldn’t hold down two jobs, at Driggers Funeral Home and Sky Travel. As she often said, she had to stay sharp to figure out if she was sending people on a one- or a two-way trip.

Vida snapped me out of my reverie. “The Fritzes live outside of town, down by where the old second logging camp was located. The Kramers are in the Clemans Manor apartments,
by Old Mill Park. It’s well and good to let Mitch handle the story, but I feel an obligation to speak to these people. We need to find out if their children have plans to get their GEDs. I find all this very upsetting.”

“Have you considered that the parents may be homeschooling?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to ask Helena, because I disapprove. Even if a parent is a teacher, that person is still a parent. The lack of social contact is extremely bothersome. Can you imagine not knowing what your fellow youngsters are doing?”

Vida could never imagine not knowing what every resident of Alpine was doing, so the comment breezed by me. But she had a point. I’d known a couple of Portland families who had homeschooled their kids, and they’d seemed fairly well educated. I’d noticed, however, that they interacted well with adults but seemed awkward with their peer group. Maybe when they got out into the real world, they caught up. I’d moved to Alpine before they had come of age.

“That’s fine about talking to the parents,” I said, “but touch base with Mitch. He gets prickly if he feels any of us are edging onto his turf.”